


Good bye, John

by johnmykawaiiwaifu



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Reichenbach Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnmykawaiiwaifu/pseuds/johnmykawaiiwaifu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t seem fair, that the earth and the weather just go on the same no matter who’s dying or what’s happening. But then again, that’s what people do, isn’t it? Dying?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good bye, John

**Author's Note:**

> This really is short, isn't it? 
> 
> This might have a slight hinting to Sherlock/John but it wasn't enough to tag them in.

The wind whistles through your hair and the sun beats down on the pavement, making the day seem all too perfect. It doesn’t seem fair, that the earth and the weather just go on the same no matter who’s dying or what’s happening. But then again, that’s what people do, isn’t it? Dying?

You try to stay focused, listening to the pleading voice of John over the phone, but it just doesn’t seem real. The people walking and cycling by below you, oblivious to everything. Their minds must be so…empty. You wonder what it would be like to have such a vacant life. It must be so nice.

You never really thought you’d live a long, prosperous life. Too many people hated you, wanted you to be out of the way so that they could be the best. That was one mystery you hadn’t been able to puzzle out for such a long time. Why did they hate the fact that you were better than them? It was just the natural order of things. And then Moriarty came along, and you realized it wasn’t any fun being beaten. You realized just how much of an ass you’d been to basically everyone, and it had taken a psychopath and John to figure it out.

But now it was too late to say sorry. Or at least to say sorry to everyone but John.

You could tell, even from this far away, that John couldn’t grasp that this was really happening. That he, not unlike you, was desperately hoping there was someone behind all of this, pulling the strings, and that someone would just come out from behind you and tell you that it’s alright, you don’t have to do this, no one will die. But there was no one left to do that. Moriarty, the one who had started all of your problems and the key to ending them, wasn’t there anymore. The bastard had shot himself, and now it was just you, John and the fall. At least you’d brought Moriarty down with you; that was something.

You had to resist the urge to laugh through the sadness, as John was persuading you to come down. It wasn’t going to work, why couldn’t he see that? But you couldn’t hurt him anymore than he was now. You could tell he’d thought he’d be with you until the end of his days, tagging along, solving crimes, swapping verbal abuse. At least you were lucky you got to spend the last of yours with him.

You stuck your hand out towards him, in a vain attempt to touch him one last time, if just his coat sleeve or the brushing of hand against hand while passing something. You remembered, a long time ago, when you had asked John _‘if you were dying, if you were being murdered, in your very last few seconds what would you say?’_ And now here you were, your last words, your last chance to tell him everything you’d ever wanted to, to tell him how you felt.

“Good bye, John.”

And then there was nothing. Nothing but the wind in your hair, the sun beating down on the pavement and the ground rushing up to meet you.


End file.
